A Beautiful Mind
by schizoferb
Summary: Derek Morgan invites Spencer Reid to come play chess with him late one snowy evening. Is it really to play a chess game, or is it to inquire about our favorite genius's well-being? Rated so for language and dramatic situations.


**Author's Note: **Sorry this is a little (okay, maybe a lot) late. It was supposed to be for the CCAC challenge 'Writers of the Silver Screen', but life likes to screw with schizoferb. So I'll probably be stepping back from the next few challenges.

I do not own Criminal Minds. Nor A Beautiful Mind.

Snow swirled in the wind of the chilly Virginia evening. Spencer Reid paused outside of the dilapidated sign welcoming him to his local park. He brushed some stray snowflakes off of his purple scarf and ventured inside.

Normally, the park would be full of playing children, joggers, and dog-walkers. But now, in the falling twilight, only a few people remained, most of them lovers going for a romantic stroll. But Reid's attention was drawn to a man sitting alone at the chess tables.

"Hey Morgan."

The man turned and smiled. "Hey Reid."

"Kind of a weird place for a chess game," Reid said, moving towards the table.

"You play here all the time."

"Not at night. And not in the snow."

Morgan chuckled. Reid sat down. _Interesting, _he thought. _Morgan's already set up the board._

"So why did you invite me here?" Reid asked, moving the white king's pawn two spaces forward.

"To play chess," Morgan replied, moving the black queen's pawn one space forward.

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did."

"No you didn't."

"Okay smarty-pants, why not?" Morgan countered.

"Well," Reid began, "for starters, you never play chess. And you never ask me to hang out alone outside of work unless someone put you up to it or you think something's wrong. So which is it?"

"Nobody put me up to this. I'm worried about you man. You've been acting really off lately. Everybody's worried about you, but they don't want to talk about it because they don't want to upset you. But I respect you a lot more than that. I want to know what's bugging you, Pretty Boy."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What? Pretty Boy?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know. Probably 'cause for a whole year, every time I called you that, you almost pissed yourself!"

"Because I thought an extremely muscular…and…attractive…man…was hitting on me..," Reid ran the last part of the sentence together so it sounded like one word. By that point he was so quiet Morgan had to strain to hear him.

"Wait a minute…Reid are you…?"

"No! No I'm not," Reid replied, turning bright pink.

"Are you sure? Because sometimes I catch you looking at a certain someone's…" Morgan gestured to himself, then to his crotch.

"Morgan! I do not!"

"Kidding, kidding! Garcia would kill you first."

"Her and all the other legions of women after you," Reid said with a laugh.

"Hey, don't be hateful Pretty Boy. You and I aren't so different."

"Really?" Reid scoffed.

"Yeah."

"I'm sure I don't have the risk of an illegitimate love child floating around somewhere," Reid joked.

"No wait, think about it. We're both players."

"I don't go around sleeping with every girl I meet," Reid retorted.

"But you want to." Morgan paused, allowing his words to sink in to the young genius. "Admit it man. I've seen you checking out all the lovely BAU ladies."

Reid glanced down at the chess board. "Admiring."

"What?"

"I wasn't 'checking them out' Morgan, I was admiring them. It's different."

"Whatever you call it, I don't blame you. JJ's got a nice pair of legs…"

"And a good heart."

"Seaver's got a cute figure…"

"And a sweet personality. I don't judge women by their appearances, I…"

"Prentiss had sexy hair."

"And a beautiful mind." Reid had fired that back as if he was reading from a list. He stopped in a stunned silence. He sat back down and wiped his eyes.

"So is that what this is all about? Prentiss being gone?"

"I never had the chance to say goodbye." Reid's answer immediately threw Morgan into a flashback of that day. Realizing Emily was gone. Doing everything in their power to get her back. Finding her almost dead in a warehouse. JJ telling them that she – their friend, their partner, their _Emily _– was dead.

"I just," Reid began, pulling Morgan back to Earth, "I can't get over her. Every day I see someone from behind who looks like her and for a split second I think she's still alive. Then I remember she's not and everything gets worse. Some days I feel like crawling into that grave with her."

"Don't say that Reid."

"And do you know what makes this worse?" Reid asked, his voice rising in pitch. "Everybody else seems okay. Hotch still gets the paperwork done. Rossi still hunts with his dogs and plays video games. Seaver's still the wide-eyed ingénue she was when she showed up. Garcia still makes her perky jokes and innuendos. And you! Emily was closest to you and you don't even care! You're still the same tough guy Derek Morgan who always saves the day! How is it that everyone else has moved on and I haven't?"

"Stop it Reid!" Morgan yelled, stunning Reid into silence. "You have no right to be saying any of this, not if you don't know what everyone else is thinking. Hotch has been giving me the paperwork to do so he can get home to his son, one of the only people he has left. Rossi hasn't taken a single day off since Emily died; he wants to catch this guy so bad. Seaver walks around with pain in her eyes because she feels so overwhelmed. Every time Garcia takes longer to answer the phone because she's afraid it'll be call saying another one of us is dead."

"And what about you?" Reid cut of Morgan. His voice still held tinges of malice.

"After her funeral, I went home and punched a hole in my wall. Damn near broke my hand. But I didn't care. All I could think about was if I'd had been there twenty seconds earlier, she would still be alive. Twenty seconds earlier, and none of this would be happening."

"Time sure sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

Silence, like the snow, blanketed the park.

"My headaches are worse," Reid blurted out, shattering the silence.

"What?"

"My headaches have been getting worse since Emily died. Every doctor I've been to tells me there's nothing wrong. Physically I'm fine. They think it's all in my head. But that doesn't make sense."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not crazy. I know what I feel. And this isn't in my head."

"Is there a reason you don't believe the doctors?"

"I just told you."

"Is there a deeper reason?"

"Why? Do you see one?"

"Yeah. I think you're afraid."

"Wouldn't you be?" Reid attempted to smile, but his lips quivered.

"Most people would be."

"Well, most people don't have a schizophrenic mother. Most people haven't been scrutinized by everyone around them since the day they were born. Most people don't have a ten percent risk of developing some form of mental disorder…"

"Most people have friends who would stand by them no matter what. Pretty boy, you have a whole family's worth of friends who'd do anything for you."

"Don't blame me for not wanting to test that theory."

"Okay, man, listen to me. I promise, if you develop some sort of mental disorder, I will do whatever is best for you. Deal?"

Reid paused for a moment, and then smiled. "Deal."

"And remember, if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

Reid moved his kingside bishop diagonal to the edge of the board. "I know." He stood and walked out of the park onto the snowy streets.

Derek Morgan looked down at the chess board. Spencer Reid had, in three moves, put him in checkmate. Morgan smiled. Spencer and _his _beautiful mind were going to be fine.


End file.
